A Winter Wish
by Vaysh11
Summary: A sixth-year AU in drabbles where Harry and Draco have a secret affair and Draco must hide in London.


* * *

_~ Winter Wish ~_

Harry doesn't care how brilliantly the light shines through the trees at the edges of the Forbidden Forest. He doesn't care how beautiful the snow; a bluish white that enfolds the ground, the branches, the slender stems. He doesn't care about the way the sun throws shadows on the ground, mirroring the soft swaying of the trees in the wind. What Harry misses and remembers, what he wishes for with all his heart, is a dark, bleary November night, rain slithering down those trees and raining on Draco's face as they kiss and touch and hold, never to let go.

* * *

_~ Seven Inches of Snow ~_

Seven inches of snow, and Frith Street is hardly passable. Draco curses as he climbs over crusted piles of snow. There are white caps even on the tips of the fence in front of the building. Black mess of hair ... From the corner of his eyes, he sees the man, red scarf, blue shovel in his hand. He's taller and Harry's shoulders have never been that broad. But something tugs painfully at Draco's heart. He's hiding, and the Dark Mark's burning on his wrist. Still. All of sudden, Frith Street's wrapped in a dancing cloud of glittering icy silver.

* * *

_~ Fire and Frost ~_

"I can't stay long."

A wizard walks by, his coat darkly old-fashioned amongst the colourful Muggles all around.

In the harsh light, Draco's face seems translucent, and Harry pulls him close. He can't help curse the gloves and layers of wool that keep him from Draco's skin.

"Don't," Draco whispers even as he leans into Harry. He smells of fire and frost and the apple-sharp sweetness of the cider sold in the booths around the skating rink.

"Next year I'll race you on the ice," Harry says.

Draco's smirk challenges him like the winter sky. "Can you even skate, Potter?"

* * *

_~ Burning Skin ~_

Potter's face goes from surprise to soft, languid smile when Draco Apparates them into his Frith Street flat. It's dangerous, mental even, but Draco can't stand it anymore, not another minute, let alone weeks – to not kiss Potter, to not fuck him.

They fall onto the bed, shoes kicked off in desperate haste, fumbling with belt and lacings to _feel_ again what they've both been missing so badly. Potter comes seconds after Draco touches him, and Draco follows instantly, cock pressed against Potter's skin. Coming hard, with Harry, _Harry_ so close, he all but forgets the burn of the Mark.

* * *

_~ Three Days of Snow__* ~_

A winter morning's muted light falls on discarded shoes and trousers on the floor. Strewn across are chocolate kisses wrapped in glittering red and green and gold. _They're magic_, Malfoy said last night, mysterious smile on his lips.

Now he moans in sleep, clutching his left arm. His eyelashes are impossibly pale against the dark circles underneath his closed eyes. The purple veins of the Mark are sharply outlined by skin that looks sore and red.

"Three days of snow," Harry whispers and kisses the Mark. "Three days of rain." Another kiss. "Away goes the pain." And a third.

_Magic._

* * *

_~ The Snowman ~_

"Malfoy's on our side, damn it!"

The Muggle boy cowers deeper behind the big ball of snow. A carrot is lying in front of Draco; the tophat rolled away when the Aurors arrested him.

The brisk wind feels like betrayal. Potter's magic, under-age and wild, brought the law into Frith Street. How could they've been so careless, school boys playing at adult games?

"He belongs into Azkaban, like his father."

Potter's face is ghostly pale, his scar vivid like thunder. He steps close, takes Draco's hand. "Trust me," he whispers.

On the pavement, the snowman's eyes glow like dying ash.

* * *

_~ Marble ~_

There's a broken carrot in the snow where Malfoy stood just moments before. His eyes were dark and cold when the Aurors Apparated him away.

Nobody knows about them. Not Ron, not Hermione, no one from the Order of the Phoenix. Only Ginny. She saw them one frosty winter night with moonlight all over the Astronomy Tower. Malfoy's cock was glistening like marble as they fucked against the wall, spit turning to ice on their skin.

_You are beautiful together_, Ginny said and Harry knows they are. Fire and ice, always. If only Malfoy remembers until Harry gets him free.

* * *

_~ Bitter Cup ~_

The sweater from the holding cell reeks of fear. Draco needs a bath, a change of clothes; he _needs_ to be alone. He never knew the Austere House of Black could be such a din of chatter and shouting.

A cup of hot chocolate is pushed into his hands. The girl weasel's eyes sparkle like a summer creek.

For hours, Potter's been explaining about _them_. The werewolf keeps casting wary glances at Draco. Everybody here thinks he's a liar. Or a spy.

There's bitter underneath the chocolate's sweet, a smarting to its heat. A Malfoy's pride is a terrible thing.

* * *

_~ Far Apart ~_

Malfoy insisted on his own room, no matter how dank and dark. Harry offered to give him his, but Malfoy would have none of it.

They stand far apart, Malfoy pale and tight-lipped against the wall, Harry trembling at the door. On the floor lies the broken mug Malfoy hurled at him. It's the one Ginny gave him, after she found out that he was gay. The gingerbread queers smirk at Harry.

_Don't fucking touch me!_ Malfoy shouted and, _How could you bring me here? They hate me._

But what's worse, Harry knows it's really Malfoy who hates them all.

* * *

_~ The Pink Of It ~_

Dumbledore must have decided the gloomy library needs some seasonal cheer. When Draco enters, the Headmaster's Levitating a silver goat onto the top of a powdery pink Christmas tree.

Draco gasps at the stern presence beside the Muggle atrocity, dark and sombre against the blinking lights. So it is true: Snape is the Order's spy. And Draco has a friend here, after all.

"I'll let your mother know," Snape says, nothing more. Still, Draco's stomach unclenches and suddenly Grimmauld Place doesn't look so gloomy anymore. Dumbledore giggles in the pinkish glow, and Draco turns to stare into Potter's green-eyed smile.

* * *

_~ Diamond Dust ~_

Snowflakes are dancing in the dark around Grimmauld Place. They make Malfoy's hair glitter like diamond dust.

"Did you grow up in a place like this?" Malfoy points at a stately home with Christmas trees in front and warm light spilling from every window.

"Er, no." Sirius once called this house _Italianiate style_, and it's so different from Little Whinging Harry has to smile.

"What?" Malfoy glares at him. "I don't know a bloody thing about you."

_Forgive me for not trusting you_, he means and Harry's smile deepens.

He lightly touches Malfoy's hair. "I grew up in a cupboard."

* * *

_~ White Heart ~_

That night Potter pulls Draco into his room. Wrapped in darkness, they touch and kiss for hours and never get to the fucking.

When Potter falls asleep, colours move across his face – blue, green and raspberry red, from the Christmas lights looped around the bedposts above. Draco understands now the shadows around Potter's eyes; his hands that are ever curling into fists. His magic, brilliant like the white heart of a flame, has been honed by long years of cruelty and defiance.

Wrapping his fingers around Potter's fists, Draco thinks how he'll kill anyone, _anyone_ who dares to hurt Potter again.

* * *

_~ Red Morning ~_

They came in through the fireplace: Avery, Rookwood and Bellatrix Lestrange. _This house is mine,_ she screamed before Shacklebolt attacked her with a Stunning Spell. Magic spilled red over the Christmas wreath and tree.

Remus snatched Harry from the kitchen at whirlwind speed. Two teacups shattered on the floor. Now Harry stands in the freezing morning, pyjamas Transfigured into robes, wand out, heart racing; he cannot stop shaking. How could the Death Eaters have got around their Secret Keeper?

Dumbledore talks fast and low to Mr Weasley. The sun rises over the white park. Where is Snape? Where is –

"_Draco!_"

* * *

_~ Darkness is cheap__** ~_

Perhaps it's the festive lights that make Draco recall the leather-bound, gold-lettered book. At Christmas, his Mother would read from it, the tale of the miser and the ghosts.

Darkness is cheap, the miser said, but Draco is paying a high price for it.

The bathtub stands on lion's paws; white tiles are smeared with blood. The Dark Lord's summons has set fire to Draco's veins; it makes him tear wildly at his skin. Something is happening, something dark and cheap. He needs to warn Potter, needs to ...

_Come to me!_

A sharp blaze of pain, then – grey oblivion.

* * *

~ Echoes ~

When Harry Apparates into his bedroom – to look for Malfoy, to get him out – he finds himself face to face with Rookwood's silver mask.

Outside the window behind the startled Death Eater, the stooped fir stands like a pale green pinafore, set amidst a ring of piled-up snow and glistening in the morning sun.

The spell is on Harry's lips when he hears it, like an echo of his thoughts –

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Malfoy stands in the bathroom door, naked but for the blood running down his arm as he raises it to catch Rookwood's wand, sure and easy, like the Snitch.

* * *

_~ Blue Pyjama Fish ~_

Draco never saw the werewolf enter, yet his bellowed "_Incarcerous!_" fills the room. Rookwood lies in a heap of tightly pulled ropes.

"Are you all right?" Lupin practically shouts at Harry, then turns to Draco. "Everything all right?"

His red robes are mere shreds. Draco's never seen so much hair on anybody's chest. And what's with the white trim?

Lupin shrugs. "Full moon," he sighs.

Santa Claus werewolf, blue pyjama fish on Potter's robes, Draco Malfoy in the buff: the Dark Lord'll have a field day once he hears of this. Still, swept with inexplicable relief, Draco bursts into laughter.

* * *

_~ Home__*** ~_

Dumbledore explains, about succession cancelling the Secret Keeper's spell. About Draco being the last male heir of the House of Black. It was his presence that allowed Bellatrix in.

Mistrust prickles in the chilly air. Beside Harry, Malfoy's shivering but it's not because he's cold. Lupin speaks up for him, and – surprisingly – Dumbledore.

So Grimmauld Place isn't safe anymore. Harry never liked the house; still, it's been something like a home. Looking at Malfoy, he suddenly remembers a picture in the Dursley's hallway: a Suisse chalet, sheltered by high, sun-tipped mountains. He always wanted to live there as a child.

* * *

_~ A Narrow Escape ~_

Aunt Bella is like smoke, the way she'll always escape through the tiniest crack. In the Leaky's hazy light, Potter's mouth is a thin red line. Draco strokes his back, blue fish moving underneath his hand. Potter smiles at him, a small, a brilliant smile. Underneath the table he caresses Draco's thigh, tracing the plaid pattern of his new green trousers.

The Order's chances are running low, now that the Death Eaters' second in command has given them the slip again. Draco rubs his wrist; Potter presses his knuckles against his scar. They both can feel the Dark Lord's wrath.

* * *

_~ At Dawn ~_

They are enfolded in the early morning light seeping through the frost-covered window. Outside, Charing Cross comes to life; their room is humming with powerful wards.

"_Legilimens,_" Malfoy mutters for the hundredth time this night, and Harry wants to resist, wants to Occlude his mind. Malfoy's teaching him for a very good reason. But the spell is so different from Snape's – suggestion rather than command. Harry longs to open up and let Malfoy see everything.

"You have to at least try, Potter."

"Can I?"

Malfoy hesitates but for the blink of an eye.

"_Legilimens,_" Harry whispers into the blue dawn.

* * *

_~ Dark Like Chocolate Chip ~_

"We are not safe here." The ache in Draco's wrist reminds him that the Dark Lord can get at Potter, through _him_.

Dumbledore looks up from the snowman-faced brownies, the Leaky's Yule dessert. Draco winces under his piercing gaze, then the Headmaster snatches his arm.

Potter's instantly at his side. "He's not one of them."

"No." Dumbledore waves his wand. "Voldemort no longer has a hold on you."

And just like that, the constant pain is gone. Relief pulses through Draco's darkly shimmering veins, thick and sweet like blood. Chocolate-chip eyes wink at him when Potter offers him a brownie.

* * *

_~ Back Alley Decision ~_

When Ludo Bagman enters the Leaky, Shacklebolt rushes them out through the backdoor.

But where can they go?

"We could hide in Frith Street." Harry stares at Malfoy who's offering his flat as headquarters for the Order.

They confer in the ice-covered alley, faces blurry in the electric glow of a Muggle Christmas tree.

Dumbledore says, "I trust young Malfoy for Harry's sake."

But Lupin's words make them decide. "I trust him for the way he casts a spell. With his mind _and_ heart."

Malfoy blushes fiercely, and if that's not a first. Two minutes later, they Apparate into Soho.

* * *

_~ Jingle Bells ~_

Eerily green, the Dark Mark hangs over Grimmauld Place and the Leaky. The wizarding world is up in arms at those latest Death Eater attacks, three days before Christmas. Nobody knows where Harry Potter is.

Draco allows himself a smug little smile as he lowers the _Prophet_. Potter's snoring softly beside him, his face hidden in the crook of Draco's arm.

Bells jingle outside, and Draco imagines Santa Claus riding through Frith Street on his sleigh. But it's just the Salvation Army bloke, asking to donate for an orphanage. In his can, two Galleons clank a thank-you to the universe.

* * *

_~ The Whole Night To Ourselves ~_

Snape's the last to leave, and Harry's awfully glad to see him go. Malfoy must feel the same about Mrs Weasley, whose heart is big enough even for Lucius Malfoy's son. For hours, they've been smothered in stern warnings, mince pies and motherly hugs.

"Finally they're gone." Malfoy pours two glasses of mulled wine.

"And the fireplace is not connected to the floo."

The flames bring a dark gleam into Malfoy's eyes. The next moment Harry's on his back with Malfoy warm and heavy between his thighs.

"We've got –" Malfoy starts, but all else is lost in Harry's kiss.

* * *

_~ Holy Night ~_

In the dying firelight, their clothes look like discarded Christmas wrap. Ribbons, red like Potter's sweater and plaited green like Draco's trousers, bind the bunched folds of their robes into blue- and silver-speckled bows.

Potter's thighs are pale like snow, his nipples rose-hued brown and hard, begging to be licked. They've shagged before but tonight every touch of Potter's skin is a gift that lights aching, glowing sparks in Draco's heart. This night is holy, but far from silent. Potter moans wildly beneath him and Draco can no longer hold back – _want you, Harry, love you_ – spilling from his lips.

* * *

_~ Something Irrepressible ~_

Bursts of sunlight make the snow glitter on the window-sill. It reminds Harry of a bright winter day when his only wish had been for Malfoy to come back. He looks at him now, face gone soft in sleep, and something, _something_ shivers in Harry's chest.

"Wake up," he whispers. "There's crackers, champagne and a huge Christmas tree."

"You wish," Malfoy mumbles. "What've we got for breakfast?"

"Um, buttered toast and pumpkin juice?"

Malfoy's warm and here as he leans in for a kiss. "Sounds good," he says, and that's the moment when Harry's heart bursts, into irrepressible glittering joy.

* * *

~ The End ~

* * *

**  
Notes:**

* In this drabble Harry says the words of a German nursery rhyme that I translated into English. Apparently no similar nursery rhyme exists in the English-speaking world. The German words are: _Heile, heile, Segen / drei Tage Regen / drei Tage Schnee / tut's nimmer weh._

** "Darkness is cheap, and Scrooge liked it" is quoted from Charles Dickens' _A Christmas Carol_.

*** The events concerning Kreacher in Ch. 3 "Will and Won't" of _Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince_ never happened in this AU.


End file.
